A Place at the Table
by bloodyromantic
Summary: Ilosovic Stayne copes with the inevitable challenges of adjusting to life at Marmoreal, including his first encounter with Tarrant Hightopp after Frabjous Day. IS/OC, IS/MH.
1. Chapter 1

Sequel to "The Perils of Constancy." All the silliness seems to have ended up in this one; I guess the characters needed a break. Future installments will include expected amounts of lust and angst (langst?).

Lewis Carroll and Tim Burton own these characters, aside from Casiphia.

**A Place at the Table**

_There was an old man of Dumblane,  
Who greatly resembled a crane;  
But they said, - 'Is it wrong,  
Since your legs are so long,  
To request you won't stay in Dumblane?'_

_There was an old person of Loo,  
Who said, 'What on earth shall I do?'  
When they said, 'Go away!' --  
She continued to stay,  
That vexatious old person of Loo._

_~Edward Lear_

Ilosovic Stayne knew it was going to be difficult to enter the White Queen's court after his tenure as Iracebeth's Knave. This was inevitable. He knew that, the Queen knew that, his paramour and champion Casiphia knew that. It would take time and a good deal of exemplary behavior on Stayne's part before he could earn the trust of the courtiers and palace staff, or at least their respect, and there was nothing to be done about that.

Therefore he and Casiphia chose to be unobtrusive, keeping largely to themselves for the first couple of weeks, spending most of their time in her quarters or the chambers he had been given, located conveniently near the courtiers' wing.

They took some walks about the grounds, but by and large avoided the company of others, with the exception of the Queen, who paid them a visit daily to discuss the transition and give advice. This isolation was difficult for two people who were accustomed to travelling about Underland and having a great deal of freedom, but it was especially troublesome for Stayne.

This became abundantly clear one afternoon as he sat with Casiphia in her quarters while she worked on a piece of embroidery—a traditional lady-in-waiting occupation, yes, but one she rather enjoyed—and played "Will It Slice?" with his sword and a variety of items around the room. Firewood: Yes, with some effort. Andiron: No. Decorative cushion: My, that contained quite a lot of down for such a small pillow, did it not? And the book she was in the middle of: Yes—until Casiphia rose in a temper and shoved Stayne out of the room, throwing the partly-severed book after him as he fled laughing down the hall.

It took much cajoling and begging and a promise of strawberries and cream with her afternoon tea before she would let him back in, not to mention a pristine new copy of the book. And when she did at last open the door, she said, "Sword!" and pointed to a far corner of the room, where he was obliged to leave it while he kept her company.

* * *

T_here was a young lady in white,  
Who looked out at the depths of the night;  
But the birds of the air,  
Filled her heart with despair,  
And oppressed that young lady in white._

_There was an old man of Dumbree,  
Who taught little owls to drink tea;  
For he said, 'To eat mice,  
Is not proper or nice'  
That amiable man of Dumbree._

_~Edward Lear_

The other members of the White Court were not entirely sure what to make of this new arrival, as was obvious the first night he joined them for dinner. The court took their evening meal at a long table in the banquet hall, and the hush as Stayne and Casiphia entered the room together was eloquent. As they took chairs at the corner at the far end of the table from Mirana, Casiphia kept her knee pressed tightly up against his own for what reassurance that might offer, and poured him both a cup of tea and a glass of wine, for whichever would put him more at ease.

Queen Mirana was gracious and invited him into the conversation, which went some ways towards helping the other diners to relax around him. Not that it was an entirely comfortabale evening, by any means, but the only place to start was the beginning (although starting at the middle would have been easier for everyone), and start they had.

"You're handling this beautifully," she said softly, keeping their conversation as private as she could. "I doubt I could do the same."

"Milady, a little social discomfort is tea and scones compared to a standard day with Iracebeth."

This made sense. "But still, there would be easier places for you to be than at Marmoreal."

"My dear, I'm not so much of a loner as to wish to live in the woods by myself, which would be the next best option. I'm hoping to have productive work here once I prove my trustworthiness, and I do like to be of service to someone who can use my talents." He leaned closer and breathed into her ear. "Such as the wonderful woman who believes in my better nature."

Casiphia blushed, and hoped no one noticed.

"I do have one question, however," he said. "Why is that man across the table watching me so intently?"

"Ahh," Casiphia sighed. "That is Oran. Our parents had hoped we would marry, but alas, it was not to be," she said with a cough. "He must be watching you to see what it is that I like in a man."

"What did you not like in him?"

"He's simply not interesting. He's good with numbers and accounting, but he doesn't read or ride or care about much of anything beyond this palace. I prefer someone intriguing."

"This means you find me interesting, then?"

"You, my dear, are perhaps the most complicated person I have ever met. And that is fascinating."

Nonplussed, Stayne diverted the subject back to its starting point. "So, is this Oran likely to present a problem to either you or me?"

Casiphia all but snorted. "Oran hasn't spoken barely a word to me in six years. Six years. I don't see this being a problem, and if it is, the problem is all his."

'Then I shan't sleep with my sword under the bed."

"Oh, you might still want to do that. Just not because of him."

* * *

_There was an Old Man of the North,  
Who fell into a basin of broth;  
But a laudable cook,  
Fished him out with a hook,  
Which saved that Old Man of the North._

_~Edward Lear_

What went the farthest to ingratiate the Knave with the court at Marmoreal was a small but widely appreciated incident. He and Casiphia were walking through the kitchens on their way to the vegetable garden, when Stayne suddenly reached up a hand and plucked a Thackery-thrown teacup from the air without even breaking stride. Several kitchen workers chuckled, a few even applauded, and Ilosovic sketched a small bow before setting the teacup gently on a countertop and continuing on.

Absurd as it was, Casiphia felt a bit of a flip in her stomach at his grace, and tucked his arm a bit closer to hers as he looked down at her and gave her a bit of a smile.

Soon the news of that exploit had made its way through the palace—no one had caught anything thrown by the hare within memory—and the couple began receiving the occasional smile and word of greeting. Oran studiously avoided them, but as he been doing so with Casiphia for years, that was nothing particularly discomfiting about _that_.

Not that all challenges had been conquered—not by any means—but it seemed that perhaps Ilosovic Stayne would find a niche at Marmoreal without too much hindrance after all.


	2. Chapter 2

_There was an old man of Dee-side,  
Whose hat was exceedingly wide,  
But he said, 'Do not fail,  
If it happens to hail  
To come under my hat at Dee-side!'_

_There was an old person of Newry,  
Whose manners were tinctured with fury;  
He tore all the rugs,  
And broke all the jugs  
Within twenty miles' distance of Newry._

_~Edward Lear_

Another unpleasant inevitability: The Knave couldn't avoid encountering the Hatter forever. The thorniness of this pending event, after their duel on Frabjous Day, cannot be overstated.

Even with advance warning from Mirana that she had invited her dear friend to dinner one night, it was with trepidation that Casiphia and Ilosovic went into the banquet hall. Amid the quantity of white marble and fabric and wigs, it was impossible to miss either Stayne or the Hatter, with one stark in mostly black and the other a splash of assorted colors. He and Casiphia took their seats as stealthily as possible, but this didn't stop the Hatter from spotting them instantly from his seat near the other end of the table.

Slamming his teacup to the table, he glared at them.

"I'm thinking of words that start with the letter S," he announced. "Slime. Scoundrel. Scallywag. Serpent."

"Snarky," said Casiphia under her breath. The lady in waiting seated next to her hid a grin behind her napkin and exchanged a glance with her, which Casiphia found gratifying.

"Scrum. Slurvish," the Hatter continued, suddenly realizing that Mirana was giving him a stern look. He lowered his voice, but continued. "Snig. Snooghodler."

"Now you're just making up words!" Stayne shouted, leaping to his feet.

"And you deserve every one of them!" the Hatter roared, also jumping up.

The next to take to her feet was Mirana, with dignity, yet with eyes blazing. "Gentlemen, enough. We are going to have a civilized meal here—are we not?"

Both men retook their seats, casting baleful glances down the table at each other. Casiphia patted Ilosovic's hand and whispered something in his ear that sounded like "be the good example," which incensed the Hatter all the more. He remained quiet, however, although his eyes still blazed Orange.

"Well, we knew this wasn't going to be entirely pleasant," Casiphia said to Rosalba at her right.

"As long as we get through it without bloodshed. Or too much wasted food," Rosalba winked. Casiphia was starting to realize her fellow courtiers might be more interesting than she'd given them credit for—at least this one.

"I keep expecting Mallymkun to pop out of a teapot and storm down the table to stab me with a hatpin," Ilosovic whispered.

"If she does, I'll help you bind the wound," Casiphia said.

"So helpful, you are," he said, poking her arm with the tip of his knife. Casiphia snatched the knife from his hand and hid it under her plate.

But Mirana was tapping on her crystal wine goblet with her spoon and waiting for the room to fall silent. As soon as it had, she spoke.

"Tarrant, Ilosovic," she began. "You two have been both friends and enemies over the years, since the two of you were boys. I know you both have reasons for anger, but surely you see that your history should bring you back to friendship. I don't ask that this happen tonight, but I do ask that this dinner be a polite occasion."

The Hatter mumbled something and Stayne stared at something nonexistent across the room.

"We have lived through fraught and perilous times. It is now time to begin rebuilding, to leave the past to the ashes and move forward. We should remember what it is we care about in each other, and use that as our foundation."

Mirana returned to her place, and gradually the room filled again with quiet talking.

"She is going to be a very good queen, is she not?" Ilsosovic whispered to Casiphia.

"Yes, I do believe she is," she smiled back. "If she can make peace between the two of you, I am very hopeful for the future."

"Just as long as I'm not supposed to make amends to that clodpated lunatic tonight."

"Hush. Drink your tea."

"May I have my knife back?"

"No. And if I have to remove your weapons one at a time to keep peace this evening, I will do so," Casiphia said, doing her best to ignore the smirk on Stayne's face as he gave this some thought.

Then she gave a long and tremulous sigh.

"Milady, what is the matter?" Ilosovic asked.

"It's just...well...I have long wanted Tarrant to make me a hat. But if the two of you are enemies..." Casiphia fluttered her eyelashes and gave him a sad look.

"I think I'm having too much influence on you, my dear," Ilosovic laughed. "Very well, if you're going to take advantage of my affections for you..."

"Oh, I most certainly am," Casiphia said. "Whatever further incentive I can provide in this situation, I will be glad to do so. I do work for Mirana, after all."

"The world we live in grows stranger by the day, does it not?" Ilosovic said.

"It certainly does," Casiphia replied, leaning over to give him a quick kiss, heedless of the reactions of anyone else in the room. "And I wouldn't have it any other way."


End file.
